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Post Info TOPIC: Boomer howling mad about 'ruff' ride


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Boomer howling mad about 'ruff' ride


Posted By MICHAEL BYRNES

I don't know how it happened but the dog now likes to ride motorcycles. He sits in front of me, on the gas tank, and down the road we go.

We don't go very far, just a kilometre or so up the road to Helene's mom's place, and we don't get up out of second gear, but Boomer loves it.

He scrunches down behind the windshield and watches the field roll by.

But now I can't even start my bike up without him jumping up on it with a big "Yahoo! Let's Go!" look on his furry, pointed face.

I thought about getting a little sidecar for him and taking him on real rides with me, but that would require a significant investment, which I really can't afford just now given the fact that Sadie is off to university next week and Madison has decided to go back to college to finish what he started a few years ago.

No, it probably wouldn't go over very well if I had to tell Sadie she had to eat Kraft dinner for the foreseeable future because I bought a motorcycle sidecar for the dog.

I think it's interesting how Boomer is not afraid of my big, loud beast of a motorcycle but starts hyperventilating at the mere sight of the vacuum cleaner, which is not anywhere near as loud as the bike.

Until he started riding my motorcycle he was afraid of that too, so maybe it's the fact he can't ride the vacuum cleaner that makes him so afraid of it.

It's one of those central vacuum cleaners where you just plug a long hose into the wall.

There isn't any "body" to it like on a regular standup vacuum cleaner which could, theoretically anyway, be ridden by a dog with a good sense of balance.

I'm sure that if he could ride it he wouldn't be afraid of it.

He just likes to ride things, is what I think.

I am amazed at how well Boomer balances himself on the bike, especially given the condition of the road I live on.

You have to be a really skillful rider when driving on my road because it has been neglected by the city to such an extent that it looks more like the lunar surface than a road, but Boomer stays with me through all the bumps and twists and turns and dips and dives.

Sometimes he looks back at me with a look that tells me even a dog can be appalled by such terrible road conditions.

His ears will be bent back and his eyes will be narrowed into little black slits.

"Woof," he'll say, and then he'll sneeze, which loosely translates into, "What the @#$*&? Didn't you pay your taxes?"

I just tell him, "Well, there's lots of other things the city needs to spend our tax dollars on, like the Shania Twain Centre and council chamber upgrades that we really didn't need. Roads just aren't that important, comparatively. And besides, gas is getting so expensive that nobody will be driving anywhere before too long, which means fixing the road would be a complete waste of money. I'm sure that's how city council is looking at it."

Boomer doesn't understand any of this, of course.

All he knows is there's a golf course at the end of our road and another dog lives there and the way he sees it (I can more-or-less tell from the way he looks at me) is the city should be keeping the road that leads to a major recreational facility where another dog lives in reasonable enough condition that people will actually drive to it without fear of damaging their cars (or motorcycles) on the way.

Boomer dreams at night.

He'll be lying across the bottom of the bed and all of a sudden he'll start yelping and kicking his feet like he's doing the dog paddle.

I know what he's dreaming about.

He's dreaming of being on the open road with his ears bent back, his long tongue hanging out and his fur getting blown back in the wind.

He's dreaming about the way the bike feels beneath his furry butt and the sound of me throttling up into the higher reaches of second gear.

He's dreaming about visiting his friend at the golf course down the street.

Sometimes he wakes himself up and I'll scratch him behind his ears.

"In a few years," I tell him, "after Sadie and Madison graduate from school, we'll maybe look into getting you a little sidecar to ride in."

By then, I tell him, the road might even be in good enough shape to drive on.

The Loose Cannon invites you to fire back at
www.theloosecannon.com.

http://www.timminspress.com/ArticleDisplay.aspx?e=1174535


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